Late at Night, Early at Dawn
by Harmony4life
Summary: Ron had deserted both Harry and Hermione in a fit of blind jealousy. The Trio fell apart. One night, Harry found his deepest fear coming true. Hermione also left. Troubles ensued.
1. Nightfall in the tent

**Disclaimer: nothing of my own. They're all in JK Rowling's possession. The sole reason for playing is that I just need to see the world in Harmony!**

a/n: I was very bitter. I channeled my bitterness into Harry, hence out came the story. Hope you enjoy!

**Nightfall in the tent**

His eyes felt like magical bolt penetrating through her. She couldn't bear to look straight at him. Instead, she focused on the front of his tattered sweater, her throat locked with unsaid feelings.

He was staring intensely at her, his eyes probably fixed on her lips. It was hard to tell, since she was having difficulty breathing, her heart hammering away in her chest. She was torn between groping his face to snog him senseless and running off in the pretense of missing Ron. Memories of twinkles in Ginny's eyes when she mentioned their blissful moments twisting in her heart, she hurriedly turned away to hide unbidden tears leaking through her irises, only to feel his grip tightening around her waist

"Hermione!" he said urgently.

She resisted, refusing to look at him.

"Hermione!" he repeated, more forcefully.

"Harry," she looked up then, his questioning gaze blurry through her tears. She swallowed painfully, her voice quavering in the fading music "What else do you want from me? Please, just stop this! L-let me go! I...I cannot bear it anymore..."

"Neither can I" He croaked and pushed her rather violently into one of the bunk beds.

All of his weight pressing on top of her, he crushed his lips against her mouth, causing her to struggle ineffectually, her hands fumbling with the bed sheets, trying to prop herself off the bed, but he was too strong, trapping both of her arms in his hold.

She squeezed her eyes shut, closed her lips tight in protest, but he was intent on devouring her face, ferociously grazing her lower lip. Shaking her head weakly, she pleaded with him to free her, desperation cracking her voice. He spared her a scathing look, his eyes turning dark, before burying his head in her cleavage, trailing his tongue slowly up her bare breast.

She could feel shame clawing beneath her skin, bitterness throttling her neck, mingled with a dragging aftertaste of pure shock. She hazily wondered where he had banished her shirt and bra so she could retrieve them later, her naked top flaming with his merciless assaults. A flash of what he might have done with the pretty redhead seared in her chaotic mind so abruptly that she was caught limp with raw pain underneath him.

He was kissing and sucking her navel, his warm hands fondling her bosom eagerly. She had ceased squirming altogether. She was splaying obediently on the bed, her frizzled hair matted with tears around her face. She gradually calmed at the thought of being able to give him a kernel of pleasure in the darkest of time. Desire was allowed to trickle within her when he started to trail kisses behind her ears and murmured her name in a husky voice so unlike his own that she felt as if they were in a steamy dream, her head reeled with his scents and his soft touches.

She arched her damp neck to give him more access, yet she could sense his lips suddenly frozen on her skin. He lifted his head up to look at her face, terror churning beneath his glassy eyes. He cursed loudly and sprang up from the bed at once, leaving her shivering from lack of body warmth.

To her consternation, he started to pace frantically around the small tent and beat up anything in his way. He kicked the cookware scattered in a corner, throwing the kettle at the radio, making it drop to the ground with a loud smash. Music choked briefly before dying completely, more blaring sounds rising against the heavy silence as he swept everything off the table and turned over the chairs. She winced, her gaze following him anxiously, striving to comprehend his unexpected fit of rage.

He banged his fist against the tent pole, crashing the oil lamp in the process, and the crunching sound pierced her ears as she felt a throb in her heart. Trepidation forced a gasp out of her throat, "Harry, what-"

"Go!" He turned around and growled, cutting her off before she could voice her question, yet she couldn't care less about her earlier confusion. She involuntarily grabbed the head of the bed to steady herself, bringing her hand to her mouth to hold back a wail of utter dismay, grief sweeping over her as she caught his red-rimmed eyes and blood oozing from a deep cut in his hand.

"Leave!" He was pointing at the only opening in the tent, his chest rising and falling fiercely, his menacing voice muffled, "I cannot stand crying girls. Get the hell out of my sight!"

Instead of intimidation, she was overwhelmed with extreme sorrow to see his haggard face stained with tears, dark circles visible around his eyes, naked hurt in his emerald orbs belying the angry scowls etched on his brows. It fleetingly startled her to realize that his face lost all traces of the boyishness that had endeared him to her since the day they first met. Standing in front of her was a man whose shoulders stiffened to carry the burdens of wartime hardships, every features of his listless face shadowed with months of living rough, only his flashing eyes vibrant with a plethora of emotions.

She instinctively came closer, feeling an urge to touch the stubble on his chin and hug him, doing anything to soothe his ire, yet he raised his arm to stop her, one hand still gripping the pole tight. Sudden chills wafting from outside rasped at her bare skin, making her shiver ever so lightly. Upon seeing him rake his hand through his tousled mop, betraying his unease, she made bigger strides towards the other end of the tent, adamant to reach him. He turned sharply to face her, and she almost keeled over with pain under his flinty glare, rendered dizzy with the smell of blood and scarlet smudges on broken shards around his feet.

He was ogling her breast, the cloudy sheen in his eyes making her flinch. She automatically covered her humble body with her skinny arms, feeling heat creep up to her cheeks. She heard him laugh bitterly, and all of a sudden, she was fully clothed again, a new woolen jumper added on top of her former plaid shirt. Caught by surprise, and an inexplicable pang of regret, she looked imploringly up at him, "Harry, please—"

"Hermione!" somehow, his face was very close to hers, his eyes glistening with tears. She could hear her heart break inside her chest at the misery in his soft voice, "Please just go!"

"No, I won't ever leave you." Before she knew what she was doing, she grabbed his injured hand and cradled it in her small palms, worry surging in her stomach, "You're hurt."

"None of your concern." he pulled away roughly, engendering bafflement in her hurtful eyes. He continued before she could retort, his back to her, his cold voice stabbing her soul, "You don't want to die. Come back to Ron!"

"What?" she sputtered indignantly, seizing his arm, forcing him to look at her, "And let you go search the stupid soul fragments of Voldemort all alone?" Her voice kept rising in an explosion of hurt and anger, "You told me to coop myself up in some cozy warm place like a coward when you camp yourself out here, in a ragged tent, with dangers lying in wait to ambush you every day?" She looked deeply in his eyes, willing him to understand her sincerity, "You can't stop me fighting, Harry!"

Unexpectedly, he pushed her away with such force that she staggered, almost tumbling to the ground. She had hardly managed to keep her balance when he threw his arms up and glowered at her, making her cringe in fear.

"It's not safe," he roared. She was alarmed to see tears flowing down his cheeks, his voice brittle, "and you are miserable…" He wavered and let it come out in a rush, "…and I-I am a pathetic git who has not a clue how to comfort a girl pining after my bloody best friend, while she felt obliged to stay with me…"

"No, it's not like that." she blurted out, remorse taunting at her face, dread tightening her chest. She knew she had done it on purpose, closing him off and losing touch with his feelings to save her heart from going astray. Suddenly longing to cry in his arms, she unwittingly reached out for him.

"Please, Harry, let…let me explain!" she said in a wobbly voice.

"Bloody hell!" he stepped back to avoid her touch, bumping into the flimsy fabric of the tent. He was losing his temper again. "For Merlin's sake, leave me! I don't want your pity or your bloody noble sense of duty!" He was looking around wildly as if to search for anything remained in the wrecked tent to hit again.

She opened her mouth to respond, but he carried on, his voice hoarse, "Go to Ron, snog him, sleep with him, or do whatever you like, whatever makes you happy. You are no longer needed here."

She sucked in a sharp breath, feeling downright faint from his spiteful words, her mind numb with disbelief. He didn't seem to notice that she was about to break down right there before his eyes, and sneered at her, but not before she caught a flicker of wounded pride and hurt in his eyes.

"Scarlet woman?" he scoffed, "Ron doesn't know a bloody faithful one he has."

"How dare you! I am nobody's possession. I haven't even had my first kiss! How could you…" she trailed off as a distinct slapping sound resounded in her head. She blinked and was horrified to see his burning red cheek, the stinging sensation still fresh in her fingers.

He gave her a look of neither indignation nor resentment, but a look of utter melancholy and dejection that snapped her out of stupor. Sparkles of any earlier strong emotions wilting in his eyes, he let out a solitary sob, his shoulders sagging under layers of unfathomable woes. He quietly approached her, lifted his hand up but let it fall back down just before he could touch her.

Together, their eyes dropped to the nasty puncture in his hand, flicked up and met in a heartrending moment that threatened to make her knees give way. She was bleeding inside, vitality drained from her body with each drip of the crimson, thick liquid from his hand. It wasn't so much the sight of blood and its rusty, metallic odor as how that wretched life essential twisted his fate that brought a nauseous feeling in her mouth. She yearned to be held tight in his arms so badly, and her mournful eyes silently begged him to grant her wish.

"I'm…I'm sorry." He choked, tears welling up in his dull green eyes.

Her heart shattered to pieces that moment. She put her head in her hands and burst into tears. That one night, she did the last thing she thought she would do and ran away, leaving him behind in the cold tent.

tbc.


	2. Danger in the woods

**Danger in the woods**

His calls were carried by the winds which were whipping relentlessly on her face, but she kept running, her vision terribly blurred, her lungs crying out for oxygen, her mind utterly haunted with the forlorn look in his eyes. It bewildered her how he could still crush her heart, after all those years of acceptance and appreciation for what had materialized in his love life, with one single look, a look that crumbled any remnant denial in her heart, yet placed a huge barrier between them at the same time. Her rational mind had trembled furiously at the depth of his gaze, breaking all her resolve to continue her charade of a tough, sensible and upright girl she had always tried to appear in front of him.

She ran headlong through the border of their disillusionment charm, as far as her feet could carry her, and didn't stop until she tripped over a fallen tree, consumed with muscle fatigue and mental exhaustion. She curled into a fetal position and bawled in the heart of the dense woods, getting consolation from none other than lamentations of blustery winds and occasional hoots of a hungry owl on that moonless night. Reminiscences of what had transpired in the tent flooded through her sentience as a wave of self-loathing rose up to swallow her whole at the memory of inflicting both physical and emotional pain on him. She scraped mercilessly at her left chest, wanting to pull her heart out of her ribcage to stop the torment that radiated from there to wrack her entire being.

Several hours or merely a few minutes had elapsed, she didn't know, but when she began to recollect herself and looked around, she was greeted with ominous darkness, undergrowth looming like shadows of unknown stalkers, giving her an involuntary shudder. She shook her head to clear her mind. It dawned on her that they were in the middle of a war, going on a crucial Horcrux hunt, and thus supposed to stick together, staying vigilant at all times, yet here she was sulking due to some selfish needs of her heart.

Her eyes sore and puffy, she sniffed hard and chuckled humorlessly, feeling childish like a little girl crying over her lost teddy bear. The Hermione Granger who had pledged her life to keeping one certain raven-haired wizard on his toes and taking care of him came back to her all at once, suffusing her with energy and motivation.

Concern pooling in her stomach, she instinctively searched her pockets for her wand as the image of his injured hand crashed into her mind. She could find no relief when she remembered leaving her wand in the tent. Feeling an imperative need to see his face and fix his havoc, she inhaled deeply before pushing herself up, yet a jolt of pain shot through her ankle made her fall heavily back to the ground. She ignored the burning sensation up her leg, biting her lips to hold back a moan and preparing for the second attempt, suddenly caught off-guard when she was pulled up to her feet this time, her arm locked behind her back, the cold tip of someone's wand pressed to the nape of her neck.

"Over here! Got one." yelled a disembodied voice right behind her, presumably to one or more companions, before it hardened in a quieter, threatening tone, "Who are you?"

"Penelope Clearwater. Half-blood." she lied, trying to keep her voice firm, hoping against hope that these Snatchers would not recognize her in this darkness.

"Hold on! I know this smell!" The familiar intense glow dazzled her eyes before she came face to face with the werewolf Fenrir Greyback, whose crystal blue eyeballs scrutinized her face, making her blood run cold. The beast thrust his snout in the crook of her neck, snuffing deeply several times, the feel of his whiskers on her skin sending chills down her spine. Greyback continued to inspect her face. She looked back dispassionately, though she was jogging her mind furiously for some means of escape, her stomach on fire, painfully aware of her disadvantages.

The werewolf suddenly leaned in, his hideous face breaking into an evil grin, baring his yellow, pointed teeth that made her automatically back off, as the same wand was wedged in her throat

"Why, isn't this Potter's Mudblood? We have the luck of the devil tonight, Scabior."

Her stomach instantly dropped. She started to feel very irritated, unable to scrape up any plan while troubles were imminent.

"Does that mean Potter is nearby? Should we take her to the Dark Lord?" asked the gruff voice of Scabior, its gleeful undertone unmistakable.

"No hurry! You go scour the area thoroughly for Potter," ordered Greyback as the werewolf coiled a strand of her hair in his long-nailed finger, running his tongue over his maw, "while I can do with a bit of entertainment here."

The subordinate snatcher released her abruptly, leaving her collapsing to the ground under her protesting ankle, and apparated away with a small pop. Anxiety clutching at her heart, she was sharply reminded that he was in too distressed a state to be on the alert. Greyback was hovering directly over her face, and she was consumed with a torrent of outrage at the beastly creature for keeping her tardy while he might be in danger, her eyes flashing brightly with resistance. Invisible voices screaming at her to think fast and get away to make sure he was safe, she surreptitiously dug some earth with one hand, the other grasping a stray twig, as the werewolf indulged himself in smelling her neck and her hair.

"tsk…tsk. What a waste…" The brute licked at her right cheek, forcing her to close her eyes in disgust, "delicious smell, sweet skin, mouthwatering but a mere Mudblood." Greyback tilted his head to look at her, red flushing his horrendous glazed eyes. "In pain? Don't worry, baby! I am freeing you from all agonies of the world."

The werewolf seized a fistful of her curls, and raised his arm to strike, fingernails lengthening like sharp claws. Her thudding heartbeats were the last thing she could hear before she threw the grime in her hand at Greyback's face, pierced the blunt twig into his shaggy chest with all her might, and jumped on her feet, limping away as fast as possible, swallowing down the throbbing pain in her sprained ankle.

An enraged howl from the werewolf rang in her ears, followed by his thunderous incantation of the cruciatus curse. She fell prostrate on the spot, writhing on the ground in unbearable pain. There was no blood, but it felt like thousands of knives were cutting every part of her body simultaneously, and someone were lashing brutally at those gaping wounds, doubling the pain. Tears automatically overflowed her eye sockets, spilling onto her cheeks, down her neck, her throat parched with too much screaming, yet she couldn't stop ear-splitting screams bursting from her subconscious.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she recalled that he had to suffer the similar curse back in 4th year, and the pain increased by tenfold. Excruciating physical pain intertwined with utmost heartache, climaxed by a swell of yearning for him gave her a sickening sense of contentment for being allowed a taste of what he had to go through, helping her to embrace his anguish more truthfully.

Soon, her mind was totally shut down, all sensory neurons in her brain freezing with an insurmountable deluge of pain signals, only tears and screams mechanically working in tandem, preventing her from passing out to stop feeling the pain. As sudden as it came, the white-hot pain was lifted altogether, rendering her conscious of rivulets of blood trickling from her nose to her mouth, a dull ache in her head, the gloomy arch spiked with leafless branches spinning front of her eyes. She thought she could finally faint, but a burly body, out of the blue, was oppressing her, as Greyback's face swam into her vision.

"You. Filthy. Mudblood. Slut." snarled the beast, each word punctuated with a tight slap in her face, his claws making various scratches on her cheeks and chin.

She heard her clothes being torn harshly, biting night chills seeping through her skin. She reflexively hugged her arms to her naked chest, but the savage werewolf pinned them down to the ground, sharp boulders buried into her skin painfully. Greyback tried to pry her bare legs open, and she resisted so hard that her lips was bleeding. Mortification stung every inch of her skin as all rays of hope deserted her soul. Jumbled images of his lopsided grin and his haunting eyes flashed through her mind. She found herself muttering his name repeatedly in delirium.

"The Dark Lord will destroy your precious Potter, but you won't live to see the day. Now, shut your filthy mouth and obey me!" Greyback's voice was dinned into her ears

With a sharp pain in her pelves, her legs were forced spread wide, blood dribbling from long gashes in her thighs. She would have preferred a quick, painless death with a lethal bite at her throat to this torture and the worst of disgrace. At that hopeless point, she could wish for nothing except obliteration of this shameful memory in her afterlife, her heart filled with regret about her last moment with him ending up the stormiest throughout their steadfast friendship.

However, before anything she had fully expected could happen, the werewolf stood up, his wand brandished in fighting stance, seemingly forgetting his delectable prey lying on the ground, as she heard someone yelling curses from afar. She had some unaccountable belief that the interloper was well-intentioned, so she mustered all her remaining physical strength to silently drag herself closer to Greyback towering over her, snatching the hem of his robe from behind while a bolt of red light was aimed directly at his chest, hurling the beast to the forest floor with a dull thud.

She gratefully slumped back to the ground, her battered body totally spent. She could hear more curses in the same voice, and her heart stopped at the recognition. Within seconds, she could feel his warm tears falling down onto her bare chest.

"No, no, no! Hermione?" he swiftly wrapped a thick quilt around her, stroking her hair lightly, his voice dripped with panic, "Hermione? Can you hear me?"

She wanted to nod and respond to him, but she was too tired to even open her eyelids, darkness still swamping her vision. He held her in his lap and rocked her lightly, fingers softly grazing her face as more salty tears fell on small gashes in her cheeks, making them sting slightly.

"Hermione? Hermione?" he shook her shoulder lightly, his voice wholly cracking, "Please, don't leave me, love!"

Inside her chest, her heartbeats turned irregular at his fervent plea. She inwardly shook her head sympathetically at his daftness, her consciousness making one last push through the surface. Brown orbs were locked in emerald; though rendered obsidian in the dark, both could discern slivers of uniqueness in each other right away, the latter ablaze in an explosion of relief and gratitude.

"Hermione! You're alive!" he squeezed her in his chest, pressing desperate kisses on the top of her head before gazing fondly at her, his hand trembling over her face. He repeated as if to reassure himself rather than talking to her, "Hermione! Thanks Merlin, you're alright! You're alright!"

She shook her head imperceptibly, her vision swimming at the effort.

"How am I supposed to drill it in your head?" she said weakly, yet still managed to lace a chiding undertone, "Didn't I tell you? I won't ever leave you, Harry."

She could read marvel glistening in his tearful eyes, her hand finding his and clasping it as tight as she could, wordlessly promising him her loyalty. He guided their joined hands to his right cheek and leaned into her small palm. She gently wiped a lone tear at the corner of his eye, letting it trail down her thumb, the ghost of a smile touching her lips.

"Harry," she rasped, her chest heaving rapidly as sudden apprehension streamed through her mind. Her other hand lifted up to search his face of its own accord, instantly producing a sharp pain in her breastbone. She gave an involuntary groan before wondering out loud "Greyback? Scabior? You're not hurt, are you?"

"Hush…Don't push yourself too hard! I am perfectly fine." he murmured softly, tucking a stray lock behind her ears, "I followed Scabior to track you down," he paused before carrying on, his voice thrice hardened, his hold tightening around her waist, "Greyback. I erased all his memory, the bastard will wake up suffering severe amnesia, and can never touch you again, ever!"

She heaved a small sigh of relief, allowing considerable ease to wash over her. He was rubbing her arm up and down through the thick quilt, infusing warmth in her heart. Mesmerized by his soft eyes, she momentarily wished his charming affectionate gaze were only for her as she heard him coax, "C'mon, Hermione! I cast a patronus, the order should get here soon. You are freezing now. Let's get back to our tent, okay?"

She nodded dutifully, her eyes transfixed to his endearing face. He sent her a radiant smile, kissed her forehead lightly and picked her up off the ground, moving away from the ill-fated fallen tree. Her lips unconsciously pouted as she secretly hoped for something else.

Before she could stop herself, she said petulantly, "I missed you."

He looked at her, and she was instantly gratified with the same tenderness and affection in his eyes, in which she longed to revel for the rest of her life.

"It was the longest, most devastating and agonizing eternity for me. I thought…I thought I really…" he said hoarsely, a flicker of horror in his eyes as words failed him.

She frowned at him, pursed her lips and grabbed his shirt collar, daring him to finish that train of thought.

"Alright, I missed you too, Hermione, if that's what you want to hear," he chucked softly and fell silent, his eyes lingering on her briefly before shifting straight ahead. He added quietly, yet she could still feel his voice quivering in a strong gust of wind, "Just…don't scare me like that again!"

"Harry, did I f-fail you?" she asked timidly, innocent fear swirling in her eyes

"No!" he objected too fast for her liking, "not at all!" Perhaps he was attuned to her insecurity for he felt it necessary to look deeply in her eyes, conveying ardent passion in his luminous eyes, instantly shattering all her doubts. His whisper made her heart flutter, "You were incredibly brave, great and amazing! You are bloody effin' brilliant, Hermione!"

He flashed her a hint of his trademark grin, and she was too distracted to notice his obscene language. She could only nuzzle her head deeper in his chest to hide her blush, hearing a soft laugh humming beneath his ribcage.

The night was getting colder. He hugged her closer and whispered soothing words into her ears every time she was caught with spasmodic coughs; scattered wounds felt like complaining again, yet she took no heed of them, entirely engrossed in cherishing the solid feel of his chest and the rapturous beats of his heart. She earnestly had little clue how being a fragile, weak girl could reap such a heavenly blissful feeling, her heart soaring up the moon as she was being nestled snugly in his protective arms. In that particularly secure moment, the extraordinary certainty in her heart rendered her extremely prone to some sort of confession.

Indeed, she called him with one clear-cut intention in her mind, "Harry? One last thing."

"Anything, Hermione." was his prompt response as he turned to look at her, solely expecting.

Time froze. She gulped inaudibly, her heart beating in her throat. She truly admired everything about him, especially, his rectitude, which she embraced wholeheartedly as a mirror for her own action. Her nobility gleaned from him over time had given anchorage for her facade, and eroded the once vehement feelings deep inside her heart, allowing her to thrive on camaraderie and fidelity instead.

Her head hurt from excessive rumination, her eyes burning hot and drooping heavy, doziness mounted in her senses. He tightened his arms around her, concern written all over his face, but he didn't put it to words, continuing to watch her anxiously. Before she could lose consciousness again, she threw both arms around his neck, planting a feeble kiss just below his lips, smiling weakly against the stubble on his chin, despite a chorus of pains from every part of her body

"Please forgive me, Harry!" The softest of a whisper fell to her ears, detached from her rational mind, drowned in the sound of gravel crunching beneath his feet.

His firm hold became a near crush around her body. She might have heard he say something under his breath, yet she was not positive since silence suddenly prevailed, even the howling winds were muted. Her soul felt as light as feather, content that she had betrayed what she wanted to say without crossing any lines. True to her heart or not, she would need all of his forgiveness to keep going. She was blissfully unaware of the surroundings. His scents of fresh- mown grass blended with pinewood were the last thing wafted to her consciousness before everything went black.

* * *

She was running blindly in a deep forest, with a provoked werewolf hot on her heels, but stopped dead in her track upon reaching a fork. While contemplating which direction to go, she heard a sinister laugh behind her, catching her by surprise. She unwittingly turned around and was dead horrified to see him struggling beneath the bestial leader snatcher. Unable to believe her eyes, she remembered he hadn't been with her earlier, too stunned to move until a sudden draught gave goose bumps all over her skin. The werewolf looked up to the sky, and she automatically followed his gaze, her stomach sinking low at the sight of a gloomy silver sphere perching on top of a grey fluffy cloud.

Before shock could wane in her system, she was unaccountably stripped off and all three of them were besieged by a circle of Death Eaters. Unaware of figures in black robes approaching her from all directions, she was rooted to the spot as the hulking snatcher was being morphed into the true form of a werewolf, his muscles inflating into four strong limbs, tearing at his death eater robe, his nose protruding into a grotesque muzzle of a savage animal. She tried to race towards the young man sprawling helplessly under the claws of the werewolf, but was held back by two faceless death eaters, forced to watch the beast buried its fangs in his neck several times.

He could barely let out a gasp of surprise before rendered completely motionless, blood spurting from the deep puncture on his neck, seeping into the milky white snow ground. It was snowing heavily, vibrant red snowflakes alighting on barren tree branches, appearing as if red flowers were to grow without buds. She couldn't recall when it started snowing, yet it was of no significance. Everything had vanished, including the full moon, the werewolf, and death eaters, except his lifeless body indenting on the vermillion snow.

She flung herself at him, tumbling a few times before being able to finally reach him. She cradled his head to her bosom, her body wracked with sobs. "No! No! No! It's all my fault! My fault! I'm a selfish coward. I haven't even told you yet. I'm not allowing you to go, Harry! You can't… " She laid him back to the ground, caressing his pale face, and kissing him full on the mouth," I love you," she wailed, setting her head against his chest, "I love you. Come back to me, sweetheart! I love you."

"Hermione!" Someone was shaking at her shoulder. She looked up, startled to find herself all alone in the middle of a snow-topped plateau, only a dull white stretching beyond her vision. His body was nowhere to be seen, and she was beginning to get hysterical when the familiar voice rang in her ears again, tinged with urgency this time, "Hey…Hermione! Wake up! Hermione!"

All of a sudden, the sparse trees shifted around her, the dazzling snow white was replaced with somber darkness. She was lying in bed, covered with three layers of blankets, her shirt damp with sweat, her head feeling as if thousands of bees were buzzing in her skull, one of her hand clutched at her chest, the other grasped tight in his fists. He brushed his lips against her flaming fingers, calling her name over and over again. She opened her eyes, too impatient to wait until his blurred face came into focus.

She took a ragged breath, "Harry? Werewolf, Death Eaters, you—"

"It's okay, I am right here, Hermione." He leaned in closer, carefully placing a cold, damp washcloth on her forehead, and squeezing her hand lightly, "It's just a nightmare."

"Nightmare?" she echoed his word as if in a daze.

"Yeah, merely an inane nightmare," replied he softly. His voice getting firm, he added more pressure to her hand. "We're both safe, Hermione, but…" he faltered before letting out a half- whisper "…you've been ill."

Squeezing his hand back as a means of reassuring both of them, she slowly cast her eyes around to recognize the roof of their shabby tent, everything in neat order, the fixed oil lamp hung on the pole exactly the way it was before, now emitting a dim yellow light onto the ground free from any broken shards. She fluttered her eyes shut, overcome with a tide of relief, a sob bubbling from her chest, leaving her choked with a burst of coughing.

"How are you feeling?" he was gently wiping tears off her feverish cheeks and sweeping her matted tangled hair away from her face. He rearranged her pillow to make sure she was comfortable and began to inundate her with a chain of questions, "Are you hurt anywhere? Do you need anything? I made some porridge, would you like to have some?"

She wrinkled her nose as the thought of food brought queasy feelings to her mouth.

"Alright, but you'll have to eat something later. Would you like anything to drink?"

He was so adorably flustered that, if possible, she felt heat flood her already flushed cheeks.

"Cold," she uttered frailly, and added to make it sound more convincing with the hope that he would pamper her for a little while, "very."

"I'll go apply more heating charms right away. I'll get more—" as he was about to leave her bedside, she held on to his hand, wordlessly nudging him to stay.

His eyes widening behind his round-rimmed glasses in recognition, he gripped both her hands tight, rubbing them soothingly, his voice rather croaky, "Hermione, I know a way to help, if you don't mind?"

She gave him a small smile then, physical ailments giving way to a delightful sense of gratification. It seemed that he had been always sensitive to her feelings, so it all came down to whether he chose to act upon them or not, and that very moment, she, resolutely pushing aside past events, could only feel intensely grateful that he did. He got into the small bunk bed beside her, his right arm pillowing her head, the other circling around her waist, pressing her burning body against his side.

"Better?" he tentatively asked as he alternated between stroking her hair and rubbing her back, helping to relieve her muscle soreness.

"Loads." her lips curved in a contented smile in the crook of his arm, her throat swelling, her heart floating in a dulcet ballad of his pleasant touches and his soft kisses. Lulled with his intoxicating scents, she soon drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

That night, she dreamed of the victory celebration ball. He looked ravishing in his dark green dressing robe, his demeanor wholly relaxed, his eyes filled with gaiety. He courteously led her to the dance floor, and they swayed along the melodious music in each other's arms, enfolded in an aura of euphoria that none could invade.

a/n: Because I love Harry, for me, the sham of Harry/Ginny romance is nonexistent like red snow. (sorry, no offence)

tbc.


	3. Sunrise over the ocean

a/n: No bashing, not really. Again, I was bitter. Mysterious adventure centric or not, there is no excuse for half-baked romance, esp of the hero, in literature (sorry no offence) For those who love Harmony, fluff abound. Hope you enjoy!

**Sunrise over the ocean**

She awoke to upbeat music from the wizarding wireless network and the squawks of seagulls. Other than general weakness, and her muscle stiff with misuse, she felt somewhat pain-free, refreshed and a tad too warm being wrapped in three thick blankets. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, her eyes dropping upon a newly-conjured bedside table, on which rested her latest edition of "Mastering Healing Spells", next to a long unfurled parchment filled with his scribbled handwriting, a fond smile unconsciously painted on her face. She stood up decisively, almost lurching forward under her shaky legs, but she managed to lean against the table and soon got the feel of her feet on the cold ground.

She took one last look around the tent before stepping out into the open air, crisp morning breezes caressing her face. She didn't know how long she had been sleeping, but the last time she remembered, they stopped at the edge of a deep forest on a gloomy evening whereas she was now standing on a cliff looking over the vast ocean.

There arrived myriad birds, velvety black prominent upon the dull pearl expanse. The sun looked like it wanted to burst through the thick bleak veil, a touch of coral obscured as if holding a secret embraced in the curl of soft palms. Fluffy billows wandered off idly, divulging the lingering crescent as a glimmer of the regal crown of Princess Aurora, who was slumbering behind slate ripples.

The ocean was a fluttering silvery carpet, lining with infinite wisps of foams that trailed kisses along the shore, singing a hushed lullaby, offering a divine sense of peace. In that very sublime ambiance did she see him standing solitarily amid the immensity of nature, both hands in his pockets, his raven mop ruffled in the whistles of ocean winds.

Memories of him still fresh in her mind, back in their first year, when she was an outcast bookworm who casually noticed her bespectacled housemate sitting on the hilltop, a strikingly beautiful snowy owl on his shoulder, she was held spellbound by the way his solitude mirrored desolation of her own. That was also the first time she could hear the thread of connection between them vibrate in her heart. Currently facing his back to her was no longer a scrawny 11-year-old boy but a precocious young man who never failed to instill into her valor and integrity, and give her a wondrous sense of security and warmth. As usual, silently watching him led her heartbeats to act erratic.

"Hey!" he greeted her before turning around and sending her a friendly smile.

Her heart skipped a beat at the realization of getting caught red-handed. Her widened eyes fleetingly caught his amused emerald ones, and quickly averted to the horizon behind him, a bright crimson not due to fever flushing her cheeks.

"Uhm…H-hi, Harry!" she stuttered, mentally chastising herself for losing her nerves that easily.

"How are you feeling now?" he asked gently. His question somehow rang a bell.

"Good." she briefly checked her overall condition and decided, oddly inhibited to look straight at him, still appearing to be fascinated by the tranquil ocean ahead of them.

"Hermione, come here!" his call was a guttural sound lacing itself in the serene ocean's lullaby.

If anything, she found herself blushing more deeply, getting agitated at how she was affected merely by his voice. She was intentionally fixing her eyes upon the looming misty mountains without actually seeing anything when she could feel him coming closer, inexplicable nervousness swelling in her stomach. She was pondering whether to run when she felt a firm hold on her waist, his warm hand placing on her forehead before his fingers tenderly lifted her chin up, making her look at him.

She gulped audibly, her heart pounding wildly in her ribcage. Something must have had palpably shifted, it was the way he looked at her, different, piercing, and naked, that made her knees go week. She simply wanted to melt into the intense heat which suddenly permeated her surroundings.

Before she could decipher what was happening, he crushed her in his arms, removing all the awkwardness between them, leaving her amazed at how they could mold into each other perfectly. His embrace worked beyond the scope of any transfiguration magic or charm work, a miraculous blend of both natural and magical, of both genuine and ethereal. After what seemed like an eternity, he grudgingly released his grip, and smiled broadly at her, their faces infused with the same glow of ecstasy.

They were cuddling on a flat rock, waiting to watch sunrise together, both relaxed and comfortable as if this were in their daily schedule. Except for trivial comments on weather and the frenzied herds of seagulls circling above the ocean, they barely exchanged any serious conversation, simply enjoying the symphony of nature before dawn. She was looping her arm around his waist, her head laid on his shoulder, her hand fiddling with the Horcrux locket on his chest, immersed in the rustling waves, and beginning to feel drowsy.

"Hermione?" his voice lulled her mind further, so she was rather bemused when he suddenly pulled away as she responded. He ran his hand through his tousled hair, choosing his words carefully, "Well…I am just curious…"he took a wary glance at her, and her own curiosity was piqued. She nodded keenly, urging him to continue. He took a deep breath and said so fast that she might have not caught it hadn't it been for her undivided attention, "…whether you really haven't kissed anyone before."

"Oh!" She gave an exclamation of understanding. Strangely enough, she didn't feel any uncomfortable talking to him about that so-called delicate topic at all. As a matter of fact, she wanted to share with him, and maybe, revealing a snippet of her true feelings. "I never lie to you, Harry."

"But…but…why?" he stammered in sheer astonishment, though she could read a gleam of something almost like solace in his eyes. "I mean...what about Victor Krum," she sensed he had yet to finish. He turned to look straight ahead, shadows cast over his face, a faraway look in his eyes, and eventually voiced his wondering quietly yet emphatically, "and Ron?"

Emotions on his face were so plain that she dared not try to decipher, yet her heart kept accelerating with each budding sliver of hope. He refused to look at her, but she shrugged nonchalantly trying to make light of the mounting tension, and keeping an emotionless tone, her eyes never leaving his profile.

"Victor was merely an acquaintance, one date to the Yule Ball and several impersonal letters for a year or so before I stopped writing to him," another shrug preceded her slightly reluctant voice, "and... Ron," she paused, and watched him closely. He was static, but for a single blink. She was uncertain what she wanted to tell him at that point, thus she went for a blunt truth, "he told me he fancied me, a lot." He instantly wheezed out a breath, his head hung low as if in a nod, while she had to go on. "Well, he did ask me a few times, but I…I…" she saw her opportunity to drop the pretense then, yet a lump got locked in her throat as he turned abruptly at her, expectation blazing in his eyes. Her heart seemingly jolting out of her chest, her boldness withered under his pointed gaze, she found herself stammering, "I guess I…I'm…not ready."

"Oh!" was his only response, and she had to bite her lower lip, holding back a laugh at how his reaction reflected hers. He even sounded more clueless than her. "Okay." was his next solitary word.

They were both sitting on the rock and waiting for sunrise again, a notable distance between them this time. He was looking towards the Eastern horizon, while she the Western direction, getting back to staring unseeingly at the mysterious looms, unable to help a twinge of disappointment. Silence became oppressive shortly, the ocean calmed as the amber spirals got increasingly vivid, even the noisy seagulls indulged themselves in dancing gracefully just above the water surface.

Her mind was wandering to the eventful night in the woods, pieces of memory trickling into her mentality, when she felt an imperceptible tingling in her pinky finger. She looked down to see their hands barely an inch apart, his pinky finger stretching to lock with hers. Her gaze travelled from his hand up to his face, pleasantly surprised that he had silently scooted closer without her noticing. She heard him clear his throat, his eyes still plastered to the aesthetic Eastern sky, when she could tell his hand covered her small one momentarily before all his fingers intertwined with hers. He turned his head to her that moment, while she dipped her head to hide a shy smile forming on her lips.

"Uhm, so the sun is rising in any minute," the way he spoke indicated that he wasn't really interested in sunrise, so she patiently waited for him to get to the point, yet all she received was a loud "Bloody Hell!"

She reflexively frowned at him, and was about to lecture him on proper language when he smoothly grabbed her other hand, his right leg twisting around her left one, holding her half captive. He said flatly. "The thing is, I'd genuinely love to be your first kiss." he was looking directly at her, his bright eyes unwavering. "Is it okay with you, Hermione?"

She thought she had heard him wrong, tears unwittingly surging in her eyes, and she looked hastily away for fear of getting crestfallen from mishearing, "No…I mean…not really, I 'm—"

"Please?" he was kneeling in front of her, silencing her with one finger on her lips, raw emotions swirling in his hypnotic eyes. She could only give a dumb nod, and he promptly replaced his finger with his lips. They shared their first kiss at the crack of dawn sharp.

The sun peeked out on the horizon, creating a glittering stroke of an amber paintbrush on the ocean canvas. Princess Aurora awakened with a kiss of true love was blushing resplendent shades of crimson, her visage imbued with a majestic creamy yellow light, her hair a regal halo of gold gracing the Earth with warmth, radiance, and vivacity of a new beginning. The magnificent sky, the peaceful ocean, and joyous birds, all were caroling a salutation to another bright new day. Only two certain originally eager sunrise watchers missed that breathtaking moment of the day, since they were both entirely absorbed into a breathless snog fest of their own.

Not until the sun had mounted over the horizon, radiating luminous rays all over the ocean, and putting a sheen of gold onto the silvery carpet did they break the kiss, their foreheads leaning against each other.

"Merlin! You're bloody freaking brilliant, Hermione!" He murmured in total rapture.

She laughed cheerily, exhilarated by their wonderful kiss, "You've said that so many times that I've lost count."

He pulled her to her feet and curled his arms around her waist, his eyes fastened to her swollen lips, "nah, I mean your lips." He ran his tongue over his lips, and the tingles on hers came back full force, "bloody hell, you're a real torture, Hermione!" he kissed her briskly before breaking the contact, his eyes flashing with awe, "beyond my wildest dreams," his lips brushed hers lightly with each word, "delicious, magnetic, hypnotic, and simply divine!"

Needless to say, she was blushing profusely with that torrent of praises from him, which was culminated in his throaty voice, "and you are drop-dead gorgeous, Hermione!" as he cupped her face with his hands, adoration and fervor sparkling in his emerald orbs.

She was struck with such incredulous bliss that tears unconsciously streaked down her cheeks, prompting him to dash them away, soothe sweet nothingness into her ears, and lavish on her his bewitching amorous gaze. Both his manners and his words helped bolster her confidence greatly, reeling the inexplicable sense of uncertainty in her head. She had every belief that her feelings were requited.

She rose in tiptoes and grazed lightly at the top of his head, relishing the feel of his hair, and playfully tapped his nose tip with her forefinger. She smiled cheekily at him. "Just to let you know, Mr Potter, flattery gets you nowhere."

"Liar!" he retorted, a note of triumph in his voice, and flashed her a roguish grin, "Didn't I just sweep you off your feet, Miss Granger?"

She was undergoing the strangest sentiments ever. On one hand, he was making her feel like the luckiest girl in the world. On the other hand, she felt somewhat alienated to this flirtatious side of him, rousing wistful feelings in her heart. Any residue of insecurity, fuelled by self-doubt, reared its ugly head again, she found herself wondering how he treated his ex-girlfriends, or rather one ex-girlfriend and one in-between. Guilt washing over her at the thought of Ginny, her smile unconsciously dropped. She bemusedly pulled herself free from his arms and turned towards the ocean, but he immediately grabbed her from behind, nuzzling his head in the crook of her neck, smelling her deeply, making her involuntarily tremble with a wave of pleasure.

"What's wrong? Was it something that I said?" his soft voice was tinted with concern, softening her heart at once.

She turned around and flung her arms around his neck, shaking her head to reassure him. "Nothing like that," she looked at him earnestly, telling him the half-truth, too scared to voice her disquiet about Ginny just yet, " it's just either you have changed or there is some part of you that I don't know."

"Coz I'm with you, Hermione" was his smooth reply. He snaked his arms around the small of her back, hugging her closer to his side, his voice soft yet firm. "You make me feel like I'm walking on cloud nine." He searched her face fondly before locking eyes with her, startling her with the unmitigated honesty, mingled with a speck of sadness, in his look, his soft voice piercing her heart, "Don't you know, Hermione? This, being with you like this, is what I've always wanted."

Her heart froze in her chest. She couldn't believe her ears, what she thought she just heard was simply too good to be true. It was beyond the boundary of the logic with which her mind was in commune. She blurted out, incredulity conspicuous on her face, "But G-Ginny, she said you l—"

"Bloody Hell!" he grumbled loudly, cutting her off mid sentence. He sighed despondently, one hand rising to scrape his head vigorously before settling firmly back on her waist, his squeeze becoming almost painful. He uttered with a mild vexed tone. "What the hell could Ginny say? We barely had a decent conversation, she knows bloody nothing about me, nor do I her." He stopped at the reproaching look on her face, and had the grace to appear a little contrite before sending her a compelling gaze. "Anyway, you must understand, Hermione! I broke off things with Ginny at professor Dumbledore's funeral. It was completely over ages ago." He lowered his voice, sullenness flitting across his face, "actually, it was never real to begin with. I sort of tried to steal a bit of normalcy by dating a pretty, popular girl, snogging and having fun like an ordinary hormonal teenager…and you already know what came out of it at the end of our 6th year."

His eyes were filled with absolute sorrow and he was saying with such bitterness that she instinctively embraced him closely, rubbing soothing circles on his back, while she in turn drew comfort from his tightening around her waist as they spared one quiet moment to commemorate their departed headmaster.

He sniffed loudly on her shoulder, and pulled back to look at her affectionately. "I should have known then nothing about my life is normal." He channeled admiration and wonderment in his passionate look as he trailed his fingers along the contours of her face. He continued hoarsely, "I should have embraced what stays true and constant in my life."

She gave him a subtle smile, her heart rejoicing at his heartfelt words. He smiled back, rather sheepishly, and let out a humorless chuckle. "I guess I wasn't myself when you were mooning over…" His ostensibly light-hearted confession screeched to a halt. He looked pointedly at her, his tone taking a frosty edge. "It is about Ron rather than Ginny, isn't it?"

Unable to bear the poignancy in his eyes any longer, she gently removed his glasses and clipped it to her shirt collar as his brows furrowed in confusion. She brushed her fingers against his forehead until it got relaxed. She was staring into his eyes, rendered more stark and intense by manifolds without glasses, devastatingly awestruck by the sheer allure of his emerald orbs, which were shimmering with a touch of tranquil oceans, deep forests, and clear sky, tinted with the mystery of obsidian nights. She breathed a whisper, her voice seemed to be underlined with ocean waves, unconsciously turning low and sultry, warm chocolate brown magnetized by piercing bright green. "Ron can sod off, at least for now, 'cause I'm going to do what I've always yearned to do for a bloody long long long time."

She pulled his head down and kissed him hungrily. She was feeling more and more ravenous for his lips, for the unadulterated pleasure derived from their lip connection. She was leading him, teasing his lips with her tongue. Taking initiative felt terrific, her entire being burst with exaltation while he was no less passionate, actively probing her mouth with greater force and assertion. He lifted her off the ground as she lithely wrapped her legs around his waist, combing his hair with both hands, her mouth stuck to his face. Once again were they forced to break the kiss, gasping for air, both with ruddy faces, swollen lips and ablaze eyes.

"Wow! Hermione," he wheezed, gently putting her down, "your lips are irresistible. I daresay I'm wholly addicted."

"I'm afraid I must say the same to you, Harry." she whispered back, still a tad foggy in the mind, her heated body literally breaking into sweat.

The glaze in his eyes dispersed as quickly as the mist over the ocean at first dawnlight, leaving behind the fresh luster, now afire with passion, which was directed to her with such a staggering force that she felt rather light-headed. He pressed her closer, and said throatily. "So what are you waiting for, Miss Granger? Be my girlfriend! I'll help feed your addiction, every day, every sunrise, every hour, every minute, every bloody second if you want."

She sagged against him, and he automatically enfolded her in his protective arms. What he just said could melt the thickest cauldron, thus naturally leaving her boneless. She was turned into a mesh of skin and flesh, her heart exploding with happiness, her soul currently floating on air.

"Hmm. Not a bad idea," she clung to him with abandon, her eyes fastened on his hopeful face, a coy smile upon her lips, her voice a little too tremulous for her liking, "you know what, Mr Potter, I'm pretty busy going hunting with one particularly fanciable boy these days…" she was fleetingly speechless as the grin on his face couldn't stretch any wider. Overcome with sudden shyness, she brushed his shoulder lightly to remove invisible dust on his sweater, "but honestly, I might consider ditching him if…if, well, you have some sort of an emergency."

"This is definitely an emergency!" he exclaimed, smacking her sound on the lips. He then gave her an adorable half-nervous, half-eager smile, "So?"

"What do you think why I just snogged you senseless, Harry?" she shook her head in mock sympathy, and then gave a shrug of nonchalance, though her heart felt like bursting, "It's a yes, of course….Aaaah!"

She squealed mid-sentence as he picked her up bridal style, totally unbidden, and twirled her around, shouting whoops of delight; her lilting laugh blended with the merry orchestra of seabirds.

They were snuggling on the same rock, no longer to watch sunrise, but to satisfy their mutual need for intimacy. Her back was pressed against his chest, her thick curls swept on one side, spilling on her right shoulder, while he was wrapping his arms around her waist, his fingers intermittently coiling and uncoiling locks of her hair. She was absent-mindedly rubbing the scar on the back of his hand when he called softly, "Hermione?"

"mhm?" she replied distractedly, still captivated by the perpetual undulation of the sea surface, inlaid with golden sunshine.

"I love you, you know."

Her heart skipped a beat. His voice was so light that she feared a random waft of wind would carry it away forever. Stiffening in his arms, holding her breath to listen to her thumping heartbeats, she said tonelessly. "I know, me too."

"No!" his sudden cry almost made her jump. He gently shifted her so that she was now sitting sideways on his lap. Squeezing one of her hand, he grinned rather diffidently at her, "I mean, Hermione, I love you that way."

There was not a shred of doubt in her heart the moment he looked steadfastly in her eyes and professed his love in such an endearingly desperate way.

"I know, me too." she repeated as she could feel her mind, heart and soul nodded their confirmation all together.

"You're not gonna say it, are you?" he asked sulkily, but anticipation was twinkling in his eyes, excitement rosy on his cheeks.

She was beholding a trace of his boyishness with utter fondness, her mind wired for gaiety of young and carefree adolescents. Suddenly feeling like teasing him, she played inquisitive, "You want me to say what, exactly?"

His face fell instantly, a grimace worming its way across his forehead, pricking her conscience to a great extent. She planted a firm kiss on his cheek, and was bestowed with that knee-weakening look of adoration from him again. Holding his face in her palms, she let her love for him freely bleed out of her eyes, primed for the most earnest confession, her voice tender yet clear and determined.

"Since the day you and Ron saved me from the Troll, my life has always revolved around you. Staying close to you, looking after you, and keeping you safe have become the conviction of my life until I realized there is no me without you, Harry. You are my life! You are my best friend, my source of comfort and support, you are my hope for righteousness and justice in our prejudiced world, you are my pedestal of courage and altruism in the face of evil, but most overwhelmingly, extraordinarily, magically, I have known all along, deep in my heart, that you are the love of my life. I love you, Harry, always have and always will, and in every possible way."

Their eyes were locking together with immeasurable love, the most enigmatic universal power manifested plainly and naturally in the look they shared. Her face was stained with tears, mirrored in transparent drops coursing down his cheeks, while on their lips were blossoming two brightest of smiles.

As if he knew what she was thinking, he pushed himself to his feet and wordlessly took her in his arms, where she was gratefully crushed against his chest, his head laid upon her shoulder, his lips brushing her throat. She could feel a flush of blood in her veins every time he sucked gently at her skin. He pressed her closer to his side with every tremor running through her, keeping her still and locked tight in his hold. They were embracing each other in a way they would melt and fuse together in one.

There was no word; they both seemingly spoke louder in silence. Everything had begun with a hug. From the first time her heart fluttered till the day her lifetime dream was fulfilled, hugging had been the most intimate way to communicate her love for him. Now, he chose to mark the consummation of their friendship, as well as the beginning of their profound romantic attachment also with a hug. Whether as best friends, lovers, soulmates or whichever means of bonding they shared, their love for each other was boundless and eternal.

"Hermione, I think we should go to Godric's Hollow." he whispered unexpectedly in her ears.

She drew back her head, a hint of dread in her eyes, "but Harry, it's—"

"Risky, I know," he nodded briefly, and pulled back, allowing some space between them, both hands set firmly on her waist. He looked straight at her and elucidated in an assertive voice, "but you do know that we have to go there at some point, one of the most potential hideaways for Horcruxes I can come up with. Everything originated from there. It's the place I was born, the place my parents were murdered, the place Voldemort was destroyed, once." She was on the verge of voicing her opposition when he lifted his hand to move some wayward curls getting caught in her collar before running the back of his fingers along her cheek, his voice notably softened. "One more thing, Hermione, I am hoping that Godric's Hollow is the burial place for my parents."

Every argument escaping her, she grabbed his hand, turned it over to lean her cheek into his palm, her eyes filled with compassion. She mouthed her agreement, afraid that any other words might burst the dam of his grief, "Okay."

There was a mist of somberness veiling over his face, emerald gemstones glistening in a fond smile. He leaned forward and placed his lips on her temple, exerting some impalpable pressure, maintaining the feather-light touch down her cheek, and finally hiding his face in the curve of her neck, breathing in and out steadily. She wanted to bend her neck under the pleasantly prickling sensation, yet he, without warning, crushed her to him, fisting the hem of her shirt on the small of her back in his hand. She, though more or less startled, draped her arms around him, gripping him tightly. He was pressing his lips on her shoulder, perfectly still, as she could barely feel the warm tears seeping through the fabric of her shoulder strap.

"There's something I want to tell you, Hermione." his thick voice shot an inexplicable bolt of expectation through her heart.

He gave her one last persistent squeeze before, slowly, awkwardly, reluctantly, loosening his hold and stepping back, his eyes avoiding hers.

"Ah…um…hold on…" he took off the Horcrux locket and set it on the rock, trying to catch up with words abstractedly.

She was on pins and needles, as he was searching his jeans pocket seemingly for an indefinite span of time, until his face lit up and she caught a glint of sunlight off the object in his hand. The ground beneath her feet suddenly became uneven, yet she appeared to be standing quite relaxed, her face a snapshot of the placid ocean, except for the indiscernible tremble on her lips, her heart galloping in her chest at the expense of her outward calm. She watched him fiddling with the ring in his fingers, his eyes kept carefully away from her keen gaze, his bang fluttering in a zealous dance of ocean breeze, feeling the onset of a burning in her nose as the lightning-bolt scar was smeared before her teary eyes.

"Hermione," he called her attention, and, not expecting her to reply, looked up at her for the first time, keeping his steady voice, "The irony is, I have been, achingly, desperately, constantly, searching for you when you're always right in front of my eyes. I haven't got a bloody clue about love. In fact, I am terrified of it, terrified of the force that has robbed me of all those I care deeply for, but then I met you, we became the best of friends, and you are the best thing that's ever happened to my gloomy life. You are everything I am to you, and…" His voice strangled, he stopped briefly, caught with emotions, and continued with greater vehemence, "and so much more. You are the preserver of my life, the savior of my soul, but most of all, Hermione, you are the holder of my heart, always have been and always will be."

She was amazed how her eyes remained clear to lock with his, her entire being drowned in the intense love shinning in his stark bright emerald orbs. Their countenances unaltered, they smiled, kissed and loved with their eyes.

He grabbed her left hand that was laid casually on her side, and mutely coaxed her to come closer, his eyes fastened to hers the entire time. Nestling her dainty fingers in his strong hand, he said quietly, "I know we are at war, and there is no telling what to expect, and I am not entitled to make any promise to you just yet…" He looked down shortly before fixing his gaze on her again, his eyes alight with ardour, "but I have every confidence that victory rightfully belongs to the Light, and now that we are together, I believe everything is possible, I believe it's gonna work out fine."

Faith, a powerful current of faith, gushed through her. She always placed her trust in him, the trust born out of her unconditional love for him, and her inherent fierce defiance against all odds that had been plaguing his life, the trust from within her. However, that moment, she was also able to summon trust from everything around her, the glorious sunshine enveloping them both, the rhapsody of ocean waves, the resonance of spiritual voices all over the limitless sky, and the passion shinning in the man she loved, with all her heart, mind, body, and soul. Outside forces were merged into her inner trust, buttressing the former and testifying the latter.

She beamed brightly at him, "I have no doubt, Harry." Overpowered by indescribably strong faith in him, she found herself uttering some meager words, "I trust you, wholly."

He slowly raised their joined hands to his lips and placed a tender, sweet, lingering kiss on her knuckles, his eyes deliberately kept on her face, observing her in the lukewarm fashion of a knight on his quest for a courtship. Color blooming on her cheeks, her heart felt as if it were floating on the crests of ocean waves. She was swooning, virtually, his secure grip of her hand being the only thing that kept her feet planted to the ground.

She was helplessly submerged in his swirling emerald seas as he kept looking composedly at her and confided in her sincerely, "you know that I've always dreamed of having a family… I've been thinking hard, Hermione, I want to build a happy home of my own…" He paused, squeezing her hand gently, while she was stunned to see the beseeching look in his eyes until he smoothly slipped the ring he had been holding on her finger, his voice bathed with tenderness, "and I want it to be with you, love."

She shifted her gaze down onto her left ring finger, where lay a petite sterling silver split shank band, inscribed with a sapphire pear-shaped solitaire in the center. Her eyes were burning with tears, and she dared not blink, for fear of ruining the transparency of her vision. The ring was shiny and elegant, yet essentially a piece of jewelry that anyone with a decent vault of galleons could buy. It wasn't so much the lustrous band, which fitted her finger perfectly, as his warm hand cradling hers, and his thumb lightly grazing her finger that made her hand start to quiver in his. He instantly tightened his grip on her hand, so strongly that her fingers felt numb, tingling warmth spreading up her arm, and she thought she could sense quickening pulses though their connected fingers.

Deluged with intense emotions, she heard her voice sink to a whisper, "I am with you, Harry, always and forever."

She looked up to see him grinning widely at her, his eyes filled with sunshine, his voice coaxing ,"Let's go to Godric's Hollow, love." He swiftly clutched her right hand, guided both of her arms around his neck, one of his hand fastening on her waist, the other lacing in her hair. His mesmeric eyes were pouring out love and devotion as he looked at her, a smile of exuberance budding on his lips. He articulated what simply made her heart burst, "I would like to introduce my future wife to mom and dad."

There was an onslaught of good feelings aroused within her, pride, thrill, jubilation, gratefulness, fulfillment, all of which were mellow and enchanting like a serenade, balmy and soothing like cloudless autumn sky, fierce and unrestrained like a raging storm at the same time; all were jumbled in an all-encompassing energy, happiness, the pinnacle of happiness that only he could give her. The happiness she was drinking in was so divine it must have been shining down on her, engulfing her soul, embracing her heart as holy light from heaven. She smiled radiantly at the young man who just called himself her future husband, conscious of nothing but him and the holy light emanating from him, and she knew he was her heaven.

He pulled her in close for a kiss, sweet and loving, of gratification and felicity. Their lips made a vow when they touched. All of her had already been bound to him, and all of him to her. No exorbitant ring could compare to the promise sealed with their married hearts.

Grim darkness had rolled towards rosy daylight, the blush of dawn had given way to a smooth azure sea, and ephemeral breezes gracing both of them with repose had travelled inland to continue disseminating countless myths and folklore. In the forest were flocks of migrating birds weaving ebony chains around the foliages, where patches of lush green were turning into an array of gold. More chills had sneaked into the warm air. Frenetic summer had gradually eased into quiet autumn. Everything was changing.

Throughout all four seasons, the only constant, as years went by, was the love that was now free to glow within her and him, the love that joined them in perfect unity, making them complete.

The sun that had ascended high over the horizon, now a glaring beam of light etched into blue sky like the magical light of heaven's wand, was showering their way back to the tent with warmth. They were still on the run, in the middle of the war, searching for soul compartments of the most evil wizard, and there were brutal battles ahead of them, but neither was daunted.

Wherever they went, as long as they were together, they were home, safe, protected, cared for and loved, truly.


End file.
